THE LIFE AFTER_The House in The Graveyard_Fish Weather Blues_Demon in the Woods
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THE LIFE AFTER
THE LIFE AFTER Robert had been a literature teacher for twenty years and, even without being particularly convinced of it, hewww.onedoor.cc had been not bad with his job. It had been when he met Jean Paul that something in him got upset , and his life definitely changed. Jean Paul was a man of nearly sixty, who was employed in a funeral home. Robert met him , by chance, one night, at the card table in a friends’ house. It was not so much his current job that had impressed Robert, but rather the learning that Jean Paul had spent ten years of his life in the Foreign Legion, and, later he had been the own...
The House in The Graveyard
“My mom said an old lady used to live here. Everyone thought she was a witch,” Alexis said. “Oh yeah?” Wes said, unbelieving. The young couple strolled towards the quaint, boarded-up house that stood precariously erect in the cemetery. It was raining; not much, but enough to make this night exciting and perhaps even romantic. Alexis and Wes were entirely carefree, existing within their own microcosm of adventure, illicit substances (the tamer ones, namely marijuana and alcohol), and groping hands. They hadn’t yet had sex, but the tension was there, so much so that it was almost comedic. Ne...
Fish Weather Blues
Martin calmed his thirsty steed. It panted heavily and was on the urge of passing out. He was forced to get off it, even though he was in the same condition. The heat was wild that day. Wilder than usual, it was strange. It was like mother nature didn’t want them to reach California. The road in front was just as dead and long as the last hundred or so miles. It looked like it never ended. “Joe, hey Joe?” Martin whined. Joe was still on his horse, his hat was knocked back and held by it’s drawstring. “What?” His face was aimed down at the map. “How much longer Joe? Where the hell even are we?”...
Demon in the Woods
By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. In the valley below our cabin, a grove of black walnut, sycamore, and cottonwood trees flickered and popped in the dawn. The stench of acrid smoke filled my lungs as I calculated how far the wildfire had spread overnight. How safe we felt before going to bed. Looking down at the tangle of mountain roads, I wondered fretfully which ones were still passable. We had arrived two days before, a veritable lifetime ago. I remember my contentment then, my determination to spend some focused time with my children, as I pulled into the familiar gra...